My birthday is in three weeks, and so is the Miami Beach 13.1. We have plans to go out the night before and celebrate, but I'm thinking as long as I don't eat or drink too much, I should be in decent shape for another half-marathon.
And besides, is there a better way to enter your 36th year than with a triumphant run through Golden Girls territory?
I can't believe I'm actually contemplating this. No, not contemplating: training for it! I ran 8 today and plan to do 10 next week. I had actually sworn off racing right after crossing the finish line at the Miami ING a few weeks ago. I remember thinking, why would anyone intentionally put themselves through the agony of sore quads, gastrointestinal distress, the visual and olfactory assault of Port-a-Potties, lips so dry they were cracked, bruises in bizarre places from iPod armpands, sports bras and who knows what else?
Why would anyone put themselves through this? Well, I really can't answer that, except to say that it reminds me of childbirth. Ask any woman recovering in the maternity ward whether she'd want to give birth again, and you'll get a HELL NO. Check back even a few months later, and you'll probably get a much different reply.
There's just something great about racing that extends beyond the race itself. Even a miserable race where you hate every second of it and wonder why you didn't just stick with 5ks. I can't really explain it. I enjoy having something to train for, and I enjoy looking back on a race and remembering how hard it was, and the fact that I finished. Even if the race itself isn't so hot.
The woman I run with, who was my mentor when I ran with Team in Training, was wearing a headband today that said, "I love to run. I hate to run. I love to run. I hate to run." Which basically sums it all up. Especially with regard to racing. Yep, I'm an addict.